


Thana-orni-tology

by excuseme_howdareyou



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Lazarus Pit, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Character Death, Side Effects
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excuseme_howdareyou/pseuds/excuseme_howdareyou
Summary: When Jason came back from the dead, there were some... side effects. Tim is slowly discovering what they all are.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 218





	1. One Breath, Two Breaths, Slow Breaths, No Breaths

“You’re. Too. Big,” Tim huffed and pushed against Jason with his shoulder. It didn’t do much physically, but it got his point across when Jason huffed and shuffled over as much as he could.

“You’re shit at picking hiding spots, Birdboy” came his eloquent reply.

He had a point, the air duct wasn’t exactly the ideal location to sit and wait for Falcone’s men to show up. Especially not for _two_ vigilantes. “It was supposed to be only _me_ in here,” he argued, pointing out his original plan,“ You’re the one who invited himself along on my sting operation.”

Jason leaned his weight more on Tim; he was doing it on purpose, he just _knew_ it. “And let you have all the fun?” Jay replied,“ No way, José.”

“I will pay you to never say that phrase again.”

“Red, you couldn’t _afford_ me.”

* * *

In bat time, they didn’t have to wait too long. Only thirty minutes passed, aided along by a long game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ before the scout came along to get the place ready for the meeting. The two vigilantes quieted down, watching as the scout checked nooks and crannies, looking for either squatters or masks. He was new, they could tell that much. He didn’t find them (obviously) but he didn’t even look up.

“Rookie,” Jason muttered when the scout 'finished’ his sweep and started setting up the table.

“Shh!” Tim hissed at him and without looking, reached up to pinch a point on his neck. He made a grunting sound, but remained quiet after that.

The boss was usually not far behind the scout, so they would only have to wait a bit longer. Two minutes passed in silence, then five, then ten. Tim got bored of watching the scout sit on the table, thumbing through his phone, and tried to occupy himself in other ways.

He counted to one hundred. Then two hundred. Then recited mathematical equations in his head. Then got bored of that and decide to start counting again. For the sake of his proximity, and because Tim could feel Jason’s chest bumping into his am every now and then, Tim decided to count his breaths.

It wouldn’t be difficult. In this tiny space he could hear every inhale and exhale.

_'One… Two… Three….'_

It was slower than what an average person might have, but then again, they weren’t average people. Still, it took a few minutes before he even reached twenty. Then ten minutes to reach 80.

Then at fifteen minutes and 120, Tim realized he was counting nothing, just keeping up the pattern in his head.

Jason wasn’t breathing.

Numbers coming to a metaphorical halt, Tim froze and started listening again. No. No sound from Jason. No inhale. No exhale.

_Jason wasn’t breathing._

"Hood?” he whispered.

No reply.

“Hood?” Tim shoved him a little with his shoulder. Still nothing.

Craning his neck, he looked at Jason’s head. With his red helmet in the way, it was impossible to tell if he was conscious. But he wasn’t moving. And he still wasn’t _breathing_. With a litany of mental swears and prayers (because holy shit, Jason was probably having a heart attack right here and now!) Tim did the last thing he could think of.

“Jay!” he whisper-shouted, jamming his elbow into Jason’s sternum.

“Jesus Christ!”

Jason groaned upon impact, one arm coming up and shoving Tim’s bony elbow away from his ribs. “What the hell, Red?” he whispered back furiously.

' _Oh thank god,_ ' was all Tim could think. “You weren’t responding,” he said.

“I _heard_ you. I was _trying_ to be quiet,” Jason answered sardonically,“ In case you didn’t realize, we’re supposed to be hiding. I figured whatever you had to say could wait.”

“But you weren’t-”

“Oi! Who’s there?! Come out, ya hear?!” the scout shouted.

“Aw, now look at what you did,” Jason huffed and started inching out of their hiding spot,“ Can I at least hit this guy with a pipe?”

Tim followed after him, not affected by the sounds of a fight breaking it, but a deep frown on his face regardless.

He hadn’t imagined that, right?

_Right_?


	2. Green Eyes and Ham Sandwich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's pretty good at seeing in the dark. Wonder why that is?

2:13AM.

In Bat-time, it was just another normal late night, in normal people time it was hella late. Tim yawned widely and felt the corners of his eyes tear up, rubbing them with the heel of his palm. 2:13 wasn't that bad of a time, was it? He's stayed up later more times than he could count. Sometimes he's even watched the sky outside his window change hues from fathomless black to deep navy to dark royal blue that reminded him of Nightwing's new suit, to that pre-dawn greyish blue where the stars were gone but the sun not quite there yet. 

It was usually right around then that he'd pass out and so Tim never really got to watch the sunrise but that was okay. He wondered if people knew that the hour between royal blue and grey was the quietest hour of the night, the most peaceful if he did say so himself. 

But that hour was far off, and as Tim yawned so wide again it hurt his cheeks, he wondered if he'd be awake to see it. As if on cue, his stomach joined the chorus and made its demands for a late night snack. _'Fine fine,'_ he relented and pushed his laptop off to the side, _' A snack, then bed._ ' Actually, a quick sandwich sounded really good right about now. Unfortunately Alfred didn't stock the Manor with snack foods, but a ham sandwich would be a breeze to whip up.

His socked feet made no noise as he crawled out of bed, as they never did because he was Trained and such, as he liked to remind Damian every chance he got. The Manor was dark at this time of night, with everyone already off to bed including Alfred, but Tim knew the house well enough to easily navigate it even with his eyes closed. (If he could train-surf with Dick _blindfolded_ , he damn well navigate his own house at night!) So, true enough, his feet carried him to the kitchen with no troubles, and just because he wanted to prove a point - _not_ that he was that tired!- he did it with his eyes closed. 

But... upon stepping through what he knew to be the doorway to the kitchen, a slight sound caught his attention. A series of noises. The creak of a cupboard door, a slow deep intake of breath, a deep rumbling groan.

Tim opened his eyes and immediately zeroed in on two pinpricks of light floating over by the counter. Two _glowing_ lights, green and foreboding and looking every bit the stuff of boogeyman nightmares. Two glowing eyes, floating in the dark. 

Tim screamed. 

"Sugar crack on a stick!" Jason swore -where did _Jason's_ voice come from?!- followed by a loud THUD! "Would you stop screaming?" Jason's voice continued, even as those two glowing eyes bore down on Tim and he backed away so fast he hit the doorjamb," It's _me_ , you idiot!"

Tim's feet slipped out from underneath him, he yelped, and- something caught him? A moment later, the lights were flicked on and the glowing eyes were replaced with Jason's frowning face, normal as ever if a bit upset. His eyes weren't glowing. They were the same blueish green as they ever were. There was nothing supernatural about his face.

Tim blinked rapidly, his heart beating a samba somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, and saw Bruce standing behind Jason, one hand still on the light switch. "Tim, what's wrong?" Bruce asked hurriedly, concern bleeding over into his tired voice. He was still in his sweatpants, having no doubt leaped out of bed the instant Tim started screaming, possibly before he was even fully awake himself. 

Jason set Tim back onto his feet -oh, he'd been the one to catch him?- and glanced over at Bruce as their father quickly strode over. "I think he was sleepwalking," Jason explained," He came into the kitchen with his eyes closed, then just started screaming out of nowhere."

Bruce blinked in confusion. "Sleepwalking?" he echoed, then one large hand reached out and gripped Tim's shoulder. Tim pretended it wasn't a comforting gesture, but then he'd be a liar. 

"I wasn't sleepwalking," he argued," I came down to get a snack and... and the eyes." He gesture futily with his hands, trying to find some way to convey what he just saw," They were floating, Bruce, and they were _glowing_."

Jason's frown morphed into a small, amused smile, the kind he made when he was two seconds away from laughing and Bruce took a deep breath before tousling Tim's hair. "I think you were dreaming, Tim," Bruce said," There's no glowing eyes in the kitchen."

"I wasn't sleeping!"

Bruce peered into Tim's bloodshot eyes, saw the bags under them, and personally knew his son's sleeping habits. "Even still, sleep deprivation can severely affect your perception of things," he said," You need to get some rest, _proper_ rest. Go back to bed." Tim opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off. " _Bed_ , Tim. I'll make sure there's no glowing eyes in this kitchen, and if there _are_ ," Bruce's smile sardonic and amused at the same time," I'll sic Alfred on them."

_'Maybe... maybe I was just seeing things...'_ Tim thought and stumbled back out of the kitchen, midnight snack forgotten,' _Sleep deprivation, right... But they looked so **real**.'_

Somewhere behind him, he heard Bruce's voice continue," And just what were _you_ doing up so late?" 

Followed by Jason's offended tone," Can't a man come steal cocoa in peace?"


End file.
